Unshielded
by dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: Exposure to an alien drink destroy's all of Spock's mental shields and controls. But when what has been so long controlled and kept hidden is exposed, how will Spock react to his own loss of control? Can Kirk and McCoy help him until he recovers?
1. Chapter 1

Unshielded

**Summary: **Exposure to an alien beverage strips Spock of all his mental shields and Vulcan controls. Bereft of his normal defenses, can he, mcCoy and Kirk survive until he's back to normal? And what happens, when that which is hidden and controlled is left exposed?

**Chapter One: Problematic Diplomacy**

He hated diplomatic protocol. Really.

Leonard McCoy studied the bio-monitors above his sleeping patient, adjusted one, then huffed in exasperation and moved across the room to get a drink.

It was supposed to have been a routine mission, and an easy one. Trade discussions with a newly established warp-flight culture. There had been ambassadors already, customs had been made note of, rules taken special care of, proper dress provided. And the people themselves had been reported as friendly, hospitable people, cheerful and welcoming. Mostly philosophical types. They were eager to discuss trade, and just about everything else that came their way.

They had embraced the diverse landing party with positive delight, wanted to be made aware of every little cultural difference they could ask about. Spock had been a favorite, between his radically different upbringing as a Vulcan, and his espousal of the IDIC philosophy, which the natives had found absolutely fascinating.

It had been going absolutely perfect, textbook perfect, until the after-dinner drinks. Their hosts had provided a beverage (he couldn't pronounce the name) for everyone to drink. A sort of relaxant, quasi-alcohol mix, with a strange brew of local fruits and spices in it. It was, in their host's words, meant to 'relax one, and open their mind to the world around them'. Pleasantly warm and sweet on the tongue. He'd put a sample in his tricorder and verified it was safe for humans. Spock had put a sample in his tricorder, and verified that all components were safe for his biology as well. As near as he could determine.

Consumption of his own glass had verified that it acted as a relaxant, and perhaps a mild euphoric of some kind, but it didn't seem to cloud his senses. He'd felt fully alert, but relaxed, and the thought had occurred to him that this planet could make a tidy sum selling the stuff as a medicine. How many times had he wished he had something like this on hand, instead of a standard relaxant that put most of his patients to sleep?

And then it had gone wrong. Really wrong.

The first warning he'd gotten had come when he'd heard Spock's breath hitch, just a little, and then the First Officer had set his cup down. The next thing he knew, Spock had keeled over, doubled up with his hands over his ears, over his head, like he'd just been caught in an explosion, or simultaneously developed the mother of all migraines. He'd never seen Spock react like that to anything other than a fairly traumatic meld, and that not often.

His readings had revealed brainwaves all over the place, a K3 indicator off the charts, high respiration and heartbeat. If Spock had been human, he'd have said the man was having a panic attack, or a stroke.

Even stranger, Jim had tried to catch Spock, to support him. Spock usually accepted Jim's touch, but he'd jerked as though someone had prodded him with a red hot poker.

The clencher though, had been when Spock looked at him, eyes full of pain that he'd never seen in the Vulcan before, and murmured "Doctor...please..."

At that point, he'd yielded to his instincts and shot Spock up with the strongest pain-killer and knock-out drug combination he had on hand. Spock had gasped, then collapsed. Jim had begged leave of their hosts, who had been horrified and only too willing to delay discussions so Spock could be treated, and beamed them all up to the Enterprise.

Now Spock was lying in a drugged stupor in the diagnostic bed. The tests, what could be run of them with the patient unconscious and drugged out of his mind, had been run. And the results weren't encouraging.

A door chime informed him he had a visitor, seconds before Jim Kirk came into the room. "Bones. How is he?"

"Unconscious. I'm keepin' him under for the time being." He poured a second glass of bourbon and handed it to the captain.

"Any idea what happened?" Kirk knocked back a third of the drink, eyes on the unconscious figure across the room.

"I've got some ideas, nothin' concrete." He sipped from his own glass. "Turns out, none of the components in that little relaxant cocktail of theirs would be harmful to any of us, including Spock. Not separately at least. Likewise, near as I can tell, none of those in any combination should be harmful to a Vulcan, or a human. So, finally, I played a hunch. And I was right."

"And? What happened?"

"Dunno exactly, but it's something to do with that blasted mental and biological control of his. See, his brain chemistry, and some of his other functional chemistry, isn't exactly human or Vulcan. Kind of a weird mix of the two. Turns out, that little drink of theirs has slightly different effects on Vulcan versus human biology, and Spock got the effects of both." He grimaced. "Near as I can tell...you remember that one fever?"

"The one...the Vulcan one?" Kirk eyed him, and McCoy nodded.

"And you remember the Omicron Ceti spores?"

Kirk grimaced. "I could hardly forget, Bones."

"I thought you would. Well, as near as I can tell, what's happening to Spock is roughly what would happen if you combined those two conditions into one."

Kirk winced. "Combined...those two conditions? Bones...what would that do to Spock?"

"Can't say for certain, except that it's made his brain go haywire. He's calmed down a little since we brought him to Sickbay, but I've never seen Spock have a reaction like that. His K3 indicator was insanely high when I first brought him up here. As bad as when he gotten taken over by that Denevan parasite. I've got him stabilized, but the only person who could really tell you what happened, or what that party cocktail did to him, is Spock himself, and I didn't want to wake him until I'd gotten him a little more relaxed."

Kirk nodded and took another large swallow of his bourbon. "Is it safe to wake him now?"

"Might be. But I'd prefer to let him sleep the drugs off naturally. For one thing, I don't want to risk anything else in his system that might interact and cause additional side effects. I wouldn't have given him the pain killers if I hadn't thought he was gonna have a stroke before we got him back here." McCoy finished his own drink.

"All right. Call me when he gets close to waking, will you? I've got to go make my report. And I need to tell our hosts that we may be delayed in returning, due to his condition." Jim finished his cup and set it on the table.

McCoy grinned. "Spock won't thank you for stalling negotiations on his behalf."

Kirk returned the smile with a wry one of his own. "It's not my idea, Bones. In this culture, they consider it the highest priority to take care of one's kin and friends. It's one of their ruling tenants. As far as they're concerned, Spock is part of our family, so it would be seen as heartless to leave him. Besides, in their culture, recompense is required for the injuring of another. They won't talk trade on a general scale until I tell them whether or not we'll require recompense for Spock."

McCoy snorted. "If their little joy-juice hadn't landed the hobgoblin in my Sickbay, I could really like these folks."

"Well, I'll see if they have anything to undo the effects of that stuff when I call them." Kirk cast one last look at the sleeping figure in the bio-bed, then left the room. McCoy watched Spock's monitors for a moment, set an alarm to notify him if it looked like Spock was regaining consciousness, then headed into his office. If the natives didn't have something to counteract that stuff, then he'd need to work on whipping up a solution of his own, and he wanted to get started before Spock woke.

_**Author's Note: **And...here we go. Next time...Spock wakes up._


	2. Chapter 2: Unprotected Mind

**Chapter Two: Unprotected Mind**

Two hours later, the alarm went off. McCoy dropped the PADD on which he'd been writing out random ideas, then crossed to the intercom. Kirk was off duty now, so he paged Jim's quarters. "McCoy here. Looks like our favorite patient is waking up. You might want to come on down, Jim. He likes lookin' at your face when he wakes better than mine." There was a brief acknowledgment from the other end, and he clicked the intercom off and went in to see his patient.

Spock was lying motionless, but the activity monitors were rising. McCoy frowned. The K3 indicator was also rising. He'd hoped that Spock would be past that. He pulled a hypo and injected a light dose of painkiller, one of the few medications he'd found that didn't make Spock too sick or put back to sleep.

Jim showed up just after he finished administering the hypo. "How is he?"

"Comin' out of it right on schedule. But I had to dose him with a mild painkiller, his K3 was spiking again. Wish I knew what was causing it." A soft gasp made them both look down.

Spock hadn't opened his eyes, but his hand had clenched, his shoulders tensing. McCoy saw him swallow hard. Then the dark eyes opened. "Captain. Doctor." Spock's voice was hoarse.

"Spock. Are you all right?" Jim reached out to touch his shoulder.

Spock went rigid, as if he'd been burned, or shocked. "Jim...please...don't."

Kirk snatched his hand back as if he'd touched a live wire. "Spock..."

Spock swallowed again, eyes filled with pain and something he would have almost called horror in a human being. "Captain...Doctor...I...request to be either released to my quarters, or put into an isolated chamber."

"Well, you can forget bein' released, the way you're acting, but if that's what you need, I'll put you in an isolated ward, all right." McCoy tried not to show how alarmed he was at the prospect. "Can you tell me what's going on?"

"I..." Spock looked almost ill. "I can hear everything, Doctor. _Feel_ everything." He closed his eyes, in a way that McCoy had seen him use before when he was preparing for a trial of endurance, like a mind-meld, or struggling to control himself.

Kirk saw it as well. "Spock...do you mean...telepathically? Your shields are gone?"

"Everything is gone, Captain." Spock's face had paled. "All the controls I have. They can be rebuilt, but it will take time. It takes years of training, to manage such controls. They cannot be completely rebuilt in just a few hours."

Kirk winced. McCoy thought about what Spock had said, and shuddered in sympathy. Spock winced, and he felt a chill sweep through him at the implication.

"Spock." He snapped his fingers in front of the Vulcan's face, and the dark eyes opened. "Are you telling us that _all _your controls are gone? You're completely psychically unprotected?" He saw the answer in Spock's eyes even as Jim stiffened beside him. "And your bio-controls, the ones you use to stay comfortable in a human-norm environment...those too?"

"Affirmative, Doctor."

"I changed my mind. I'm transferring you to your quarters, immediately." He turned to Kirk, standing on the other side of the bed. "You'd better clear the halls Jim. We know Spock has a range of a few yards at least."

"More. But clearing the halls will have to be sufficient." Spock's jaw tightened.

Kirk nodded. "All right." he looked back at his stricken first officer. "Spock...is there anything we can do to help? Even if it's just leave you alone?"

"I...do not know yet." Spock closed his eyes again. "I...this condition...I do not have enough data to ascertain what I need."

McCoy frowned. "Would putting you in that Vulcan healing trance of yours help?"

Spock's mouth tightened. "Doctor...that too is something that is part of my controls."

That explained why he'd had to drug the Vulcan unconscious. He considered a moment, then filled a hypo and went back to Spock's side. "Think your system can handle a mild neural dampener? This little cocktail shouldn't knock you out or interfere with your movement too much, but it might make you feel a little spaced out. Like a really good pain drug right before it knocks you under."

Spock considered a moment, then nodded, reluctance clear on his face. "At the moment, I should prefer the nausea induced my your medication to the sensitivity I am currently experiencing."

Considering how he complained about the nausea normally, that told McCoy a great deal. He injected the Vulcan, careful not to touch him. "Mother of all migraines and then some, I'll bet."

"Not an inaccurate assessment." Spock was clearly working for normalcy, and McCoy didn't have the heart to stop him. He had no idea what it would be like, for a telepath to suddenly lose all their shields.

Kirk returned. "The halls between here and Spock's quarters should be cleared. I've called the bridge and told Scotty and Uhura to relay a message to the surface, asking to talk to a medical adviser." Spock nodded, then moved to sit up. Kirk watched him. "Spock...I know already asked, but...can we do anything?"

Spock closed his eyes, his expression strained and his shoulders tense under his shirt. His hands balled into fists, then relaxed. "As a matter of fact...there is one thing that may be able to help...to ease my current condition. However...it might prove...unsettling, for you and Doctor McCoy. And for those others who may be involved."

"Tell us anyway." McCoy snorted. "Of all the damn times to worry..."

"Due to our...general relationships...and to the nature of the missions we have so frequently embarked on, the two of you are the two persons aboard this vessel with whom I have had the greatest amount of mental contact, as well as being my two closest associates. Your presence, therefore, is somewhat less of a strain, as my mind is already somewhat accustomed to it." Spock looked as if the words hurt, and McCoy didn't have to be a mind reader to know that they were painfully embarrassing to the Vulcan.

"You'd like us to act like a buffer, as much as we can." Kirk's voice was gentle. "Are you sure that our emotions won't hurt you?"

"They are not always comfortable, but even the doctor at his most irascible is less frustrating than a mind to which I have no tolerance built up. A familiar pattern, however rough, is still far less strain than an unfamiliar one." Spock's jaw clenched. "Also...Mr. Scott and Lieutenant Uhura may also be able to help, somewhat. I have known both of them for many years."

"McCoy, myself, Uhura and Scotty. Just those four?"

"Yes, Captain. I would prefer not to be seen or contacted by anyone else at this time." Spock was shivering.

McCoy decided that was enough. "Well fine. Jim and I'll figure out an excuse later. In the meantime, you'll be more comfortable in your quarters with the temperature turned up. So let's get a move on, before some hapless idiot late for duty decides the corridor clearance is over and runs slap-bang into you on the way down."

Spock nodded, and after a moment, his face resumed it's customary impassive expression. Only someone who knew him would have seen the pain lurking in his eyes, or the tension in his frame.

Kirk proceeded him out the door, then gestured for Spock to come behind him. McCoy brought up the rear, all of them walking in the casual, loosely bunched grouping they so often fell into when they were on their way somewhere and happened to all be going together. McCoy tried to keep his mind off of the fact that he'd never noticed how well the arrangement insulated Spock, their resident telepath, from immediate contact with other people. The habit had started as a coincidence of command rank and procedure, but he was glad of it now.

Fortunately, no one had yet dared to breach the Captain's orders to clear the halls. They encountered no one. McCoy and Jim both heaved a sigh of relief as they entered Spock's quarters and the door shut behind them. Spock slumped on the bed in the sleeping alcove, looking for all the world as if he'd just run for a month without sleep. McCoy immediately went over to the wall thermostat and adjusted it upward a few degrees. He knew Spock kept it on the cool side, due to the frequency of having human visitors, but Spock was practically in shock, and needed all the warmth he could get.

Seconds later, the temperature was climbing. He and Jim were both sweating a bit, but Spock had relaxed. The Vulcan looked up at him. "Thank you, Doctor."

"No problem. It's my job to take care of my patients needs." he studied Spock's pale face. "You said your range was more than a few yards with no shields. How bad are we talking, exactly?"

Spock closed his eyes, considering. His expression tensed. "At least two decks up or down. I can't be sure. Horizontal range...several cabins over. I can sense the emanations from the gamma shift crew currently asleep, and the beta and delta shift crews, who are off but have not yet retired."

Kirk frowned. "Would it help you if we were to temporarily clear this deck? Some sort of...repair, minor work being done."

"No. It would not. I would still be aware of those on other decks."

"Observation Decks are the most isolated, usually. But they're also the least environmentally controlled. And it'll be damn hard to think of a good excuse for you to be camping out up there. Unless we want to just tell the whole danged crew what's going on."

"We can't do that." Kirk shook his head. "We'd have half the crew up in arms to protect Spock, and half the crew trying to avoid him, worried what he might find out from inadvertent contact with them. We can't afford that kind of chaos."

"Indeed. We can not." Spock shook his head. "No...I will simply have to endure, until I have managed to recover. Unless, of course, the local inhabitants have an antidote to counteract the effects, or some sort of procedure that could be used to mitigate them."

Kirk nodded. "Hopefully they'll get back to us soon. In the meantime, you said the presence of people you knew well would help. Is there anything in specific we can do, or is it just our presence you need?"

"It would be more comfortable if you were to remain calm. In essence, however, I suspect the greatest benefit would be derived from a simple continuation of normal daily routines and patterns." Spock leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, then linked his fingers together.

"In other words, act like we always act around you, only without any temper tantrums." McCoy drawled the words on purpose.

"Precisely, Doctor." Spock looked at him over his hands.

"All right. But I've got one condition Spock." McCoy moved closer, then dropped into a crouch so he was level with the Vulcan. "For God's sake, drop that forced impassivity of yours."

Spock stiffened again. "Doctor..."

Kirk echoed him. "Bones..."

McCoy held up his hand to stop them both. "This isn't a joke this time. Spock, you'll wear yourself out twice as fast trying to retain that 'emotional discipline' of yours, as well as endure this whole telepathic sensitivity thing. You've already said your controls are shot. So you might as well relax some. Otherwise, you'll get exhausted, and then I'm bettin' it'll be even worse for you. And you already look like you've been up for a few days straight. I don't even have to use a tricorder or a medical scanner to see how bad this is straining you. I don't think your body, even with your Vulcan endurance, can handle much more, and we don't know how long this state will last. Besides, there's a limited number of shots I can give you, without them messing up that computer inside your skull. Or other undesirable side effects."

Spock closed his eyes. His fingers locked tighter together, so that the knuckles were white. "Doctor...what you ask..."

"I know it'll be embarrassing for you. For Pete's sake, Spock, I ain't gonna harass you at a time like this. And if you want my professional oath that nothing that happens in this room until you recover will ever be spoken of, then you have it. I'm sure Jim and Scotty and Uhura will say the same."

Kirk came to kneel beside him. "Spock...is McCoy right about the strain?"

Spock's jawline went rigid. Then, ever so slowly, he relaxed. "I regret...the doctor's concerns are not entirely unfounded."

"If that's the case, then I want you to listen to him." Kirk started to reach out, then stopped and lowered his hand to the bed beside Spock instead. "You have my word, our oath, that this won't be spoken of. You know Uhura and Scotty would never do anything that might humiliate you, at least not on purpose." He sighed. "With any luck, the local doctors will have some idea of how to counter this. You might only need to hang on for a few hours."

Spock nodded. "As you wish, Jim."

"All right then." McCoy rose from his crouched position. "Jim, you're off, so you can stay with Spock for now, right?" Kirk nodded. "Good. You and he are the most compatible anyway. You two go on and play chess, or whatever else it is you get up to when you're off duty. I'll call Scotty and Uhura down to the Sickbay, explain things to them and we'll set up some sort of schedule to try and make the best of this."

Spock bowed his head. "Thank you Doctor."

McCoy snorted. "Twice in an hour. You really must feel like hell. Anyway, you can thank me when we've straightened this whole mess out." He checked the temperature one more time, ran a quick scan of Spock, then left the two men to their own devices.

_**Author's Note: **So...what do you think? _


	3. Chapter 3: Guardians

**Chapter Three: Guardians**

Back in Sickbay, McCoy paged Scotty and Uhura. Luckily, Uhura was just coming off shift, and Scotty wasn't busy, what with them being in standard orbit and in good repair. Both senior officers were at his door in a matter of minutes.

Scotty was the first one to speak. "Doctor, is there some kinda problem? It can't be time for my physical yet, and I'm feeling fine."

"I'm sure you are. I have no present concerns about your health, Scotty. Or yours Uhura." he gestured for them to take seats in his office. "Uhura, you were with the landing party, weren't you?"

The communications officer nodded. "I was. Actually, I was planning to come and ask you: How's Commander Spock? It looked like he took sick when we were on the planet, but I was seated too far away to be able to tell exactly what happened. Is he all right?"

McCoy grimaced. "Actually, it's Spock I want to talk to you both about. And, in answer to your question, Lieutenant, he is most definitely not all right. As a matter of fact, he's in pretty serious condition, and I'm gonna need help from both of you in dealing with the matter."

Scotty scowled. "Perhaps you'd better be telling us exactly what the matter is, Doctor."

McCoy nodded. "After dinner, it's local custom to serve up a special beverage. Their version of a night-cap, or after-dinner coffee. For humans it mostly has a relaxing, slightly euphoric effect."

Uhura nodded. "I remember it. It was rather sweet. But I thought you and Spock both checked to make sure it was safe."

"We did. What we didn't think of, unfortunately, is what happens when an odd combination of chemicals hits an odd combination of biology. Simply put, the substances in that drink wouldn't have done a damn thing if they'd been separated, or if Spock had been completely human or completely Vulcan. But he's half-and-half, and when that mix hit his system, it had some damned unfortunate side effects." He rubbed his forehead.

"Unfortunate how?" Scotty looked grave, and Uhura looked worried.

This was the part he dreaded speaking about. "Somehow, that little cocktail did something that scrambled Spock's mind and short circuited all his mental controls. All those Vulcan disciplines he uses every day to function and protect his mind came crashing down like a house of cards."

Uhura's eyes widened as she put a hand to her mouth. Scotty looked as if he'd been sucker punched. "You mean..."

"He's completely psychically open. He's already verified that he can sense things from several yards. We don't know his exact range, but we do know that solid barriers don't mean a damn thing to him. And his biological controls, like his temperature and metabolic regulation, they're shot as well. He can't go into a healing trance, I don't even know if the poor devil can even achieve a basic Vulcan meditation trance at this point. I do know he reacted like he'd been hit with disruptor fire when the captain tried touchin' him."

"Oh, aye, he would at that. Bein' a touch telepath the way he is." Scotty looked sympathetic, and Uhura had tears in her eyes. "But why would you be telling us this?"

"Spock said the one thing that can help him until this has been fixed is the presence of familiar, comfortable minds to act as buffers between him and the rest of the crew. We can't protect him completely, but we can provide a little relief. He specifically requested the Captain and I, as well as you two."

Uhura blinked. "I understand you and the Captain...but, why would Spock request us?"

McCoy sighed. "Both of you are senior officers. You've known Spock a while, and he's known you a while. You're probably some of his oldest associates. Plus, he'd never say it, but I know you both have good relationships with him. Scotty, you and Spock consult frequently over the engine mechanics, and computer improvements, right?"

The Scotsman nodded. "Aye, we do at that. And he likes to rotate the science and engineering crews a bit, to give everyone a more balanced understanding of the way things work."

McCoy nodded. "And Uhura, you and Spock sing and play for the crew sometimes, don't you?"

"Once or twice a month, if we're not too busy. Spock's been teaching me Vulcan songs in exchange for some popular Earth songs, and he's an excellent accompanist, with that harp of his. If I can sing it, he can usually play it." She smiled sheepishly. "He's even let me tease him a few times, during our performances."

"That's exactly what he needs right now. The kind of comfort that comes from trading ideas, or being able to tease...that's exactly what he needs. And that, I'm guessing, is why he asked for you." McCoy sighed. "He'd probably prefer I didn't mention this, but you might as well be warned...his emotional controls are shot all to hell too. He's tryin' to stay his normal Vulcan self, but I warned him that it'd just wear him out and make it that much worse. So Spock might be a trifle less...restrained than you're used to seeing him. I'm guessing that he's asking for you because you're people he doesn't mind seein' him like that."

"Poor devil. I can see why you'd warn us."

Uhura was looking around the Sickbay. "Where is Mr. Spock?"

"In his quarters. I suggest you wear something cool and take a cold drink with you when you visit him. With his bio-controls shot, he's got it like a furnace in there." McCoy mopped his forehead, reminded of the way he had sweat in there. Now that he was thinking about it, he could feel the slightly sticky, scratchy feel of his face.

Scott shrugged. "A little heat's little enough to put up with, if it'll make the poor man feel better. Do you have any idea how long he's goin' ta be this way?"

"Until we can get a medical expert from the planet who knows how to treat it, or until I can whip up an antidote. Or until Spock gets himself back together. Whichever comes first, I guess." McCoy grimaced. "I can tell you right now that me whippin' up a cure ain't gonna happen all that quick. First I'll have to figure out exactly which part of that confounded concoction set him off, then how it set him off, and then I'll have to figure out long term effects, if any. Then I'll have to figure out the counter-agents, and how to combine them in a way that doesn't make him feel worse than he already does. I'll do my best, but I've got a bad feeling that we're mostly gonna have to wait for Spock to reset his brain." He scowled. "I've seen Spock suffer mental alterations from foreign substances before, but never to this extent. Based on what I know and what he's said, it's probably gonna be a few days. And that's if nothing else happens to the inside of his head."

"Ach, poor fellow. We're gonna have our hands full, no mistake." Scott shook his head in sympathy. "I'll drop by later this evening with the latest technical journals for him."

"I'm off shift. I could visit him now." Uhura looked at him.

"Not right now. The Captain's in there with him. Despite how he acted earlier, I suspect those two are gonna be the most frequent combination. For all their differences, Jim and Spock are two of the most compatible people mentally that I've ever seen. We'll give those two some time to get him relaxed and calmed down a bit, and then you two can draw straws on who gets to see him next."

Uhura nodded. "I eat dinner with Spock fairly frequently, on those nights when we're performing together. Perhaps I could take him his meal this evening? I know his favorites."

"Good idea." McCoy tapped one finger on the desk. "I doubt I have to tell you, but Spock doesn't want this getting broadcast all over the ship. He's specifically asked to be left alone, away from where folks can see him. Of course, people are gonna wonder when he doesn't show up on the bridge, so if you've got some ideas on how to handle it, I'd love to hear them. I'd say he's in isolation, but my nurses are gonna know soon enough that he's not."

Uhura nodded pursed her lips, looking thoughtful. "Everyone on the landing party knows Mr. Spock was ill. Maybe...if we say it's some kind of local virus that effects Vulcans, and you ordered him to rest in his quarters..."

"He'd have people visiting to see how he is." Scott scowled. "There'll be all manner of folk in and out of his rooms, if we put that word out."

"I know...but most people know not to disturb him if he's got a new project. I remember, the people here were very interested in Spock's IDIC philosophy, and in the diversity of the crew. If we put it out that the captain assigned him to compile some sort of document, on various species and their different philosophies, to share them with the people here...I'd have an excuse to visit him as a Communications officer, to offer information on different methods of communication. And Scotty could do a section on technological differences, or how a species approaches technology differently through various philosophies..."

McCoy considered it. "Project like that'd be time consuming, but not hard for him. It's a valid excuse. It's something I'd let Spock do if he were recovering from an illness and cooped up in Sickbay for some reason. Something to occupy his mind, but not strain it. And you're right, it keeps him busy enough that most folks won't bother him unless he specifically asks them to talk to him." He nodded once. "Right. I'll talk to Spock and the captain about it. But it sounds like the best idea we've had so far."

A beep on his console startled him. He tapped it. "McCoy here."

"Sulu here sir. The captain put in a request to speak to a local doctor. They're online."

"Right. Patch it through to my office." he gestured to Uhura and Scotty, and they both stood. "Ya'll go get some rest, or whatever it is you were doing before I interrupted. And keep me posted. I'll do the same."

"Yes sir." They both bobbed their heads in farewell, then ducked out the door. McCoy engaged the privacy lock on his office door, then tapped the button to turn his intercom back on. The somber face of a native in garb he hadn't seen before looked back at him. "Sorry about the delay. I'm Doctor McCoy, USS Enterprise. I've got a little problem I was wondering if you could help me with..."


	4. Chapter 4: Troubleshooting

**Chapter Four: Troubleshooting**

The talk with the Chancellor's healer was informative. Unfortunately, it wasn't helpful for Spock's case. Yes, they'd had people who sometimes had a bad reaction to the drink, but it was more of an allergic reaction. Yes, they did have people who became uneasy or uncomfortable with the 'openness' that occurred when under it's influence, but they regarded that response the same way Scotty regarded people who were nervous about drinking alcohol. A sort of 'each to their own' and 'you don't know what you're missing' philosophy. The healer did agree to send up all possible data on the allergic reactions cases, and see if he could locate one of the people who preferred to abstain, but he couldn't promise anything.

McCoy thanked him for his efforts, and his assistance, then went to his lab and pulled up the details of the chemical compounds that made up the drink, as well as the details of Spock's brain chemistry. He spent over an hour just trying to correlate which parts of Spock's chemistry had been affected when he'd suffered other mental aberrations.

It was enough to make him grind his teeth in frustration. He knew there had been several instances where Spock's full mental control had been compromised. But Spock didn't tend to be forthcoming about those times. Certainly, he'd never volunteered to be examined during those times, embarrassing as they were for him. The one time he might have agreed had been when they'd dealt with the Omicron Ceti spores, and then he himself had been too complacent to bother, secure in the knowledge that everyone in the colony was in good health and good spirits.

He had gotten full readings when Spock had gone into the one fever, but that had been a purely biological response. The effect had less been a chemical one than a sheer wearing down of willpower to fight a growing imbalance. It was like his own system had overloaded Spock's brain. The situation they faced now was more like something had short-circuited it.

There had been the PSI2000 incident, but he'd never gotten a confirmation as to whether or not Spock had been affected. He thought the Vulcan had been, based on the brief interaction he'd seen on the bridge. And he'd heard Jim ask if Spock was all right, which implied that he'd had some reason to believe that Spock hadn't been all right before. But Spock had seemed in control, and with several dozen crew members who most definitely weren't, the Vulcan had slipped his mind. He hadn't gotten around to treating Spock until much later, never mind getting physical or psych test on him.

Still...the PSI 2000 incident was a place to start. He pulled up the records, going over the well-documented effects on the human nervous system. To that, he added the chemical compounds of the Omicron spores, and what he recalled of their effects on Spock. If what he remembered was correct, the spores had at least partially shorted Spock's emotional controls, if not the others. If he could cobble together a serum that would at least blunt those effects, that would be better than nothing. Perhaps with a neural dampening drug to lower his sensitivity...blasted tricky combination, especially with that weird cross-wired physiology, but it might work. He'd just have to be careful about side effects, and working out the dosage would be touchy. Still, it was the best lead he'd managed so far.

An hour after that, Scotty called in to say that he and Captain Kirk had exchanged places. McCoy thanked him, then went back to scowling at the computer screen.

A neural dampener would reduce Spock's sensitivity, and he had a compound that might, theoretically, stabilize the Vulcan and at least reduce the range of his telepathic abilities. But if he understood the data he had right, it would also inhibit Spock's ability to recover. Anything he'd tested that could, or would, possibly help shield Spock from the effects presented the same problem.

He finally saved his work, then privacy locked the file so no one could look at it by accident, then used the comm panel to invite the Captain to dinner with him.

Kirk met him at the door to the Mess hall, looking almost as tired and frustrated as he felt. "McCoy."

"Jim." He gestured the Captain to proceed him into the room. They both picked up their meals, then settled at a corner table. "How's Spock doin'?"

"I left him and Scotty debating the latest physics articles and their applications to engineering functions. They seemed to be getting along fine, though we've set up a cold box with ice packs on under the edge of Spock's desk, for the rest of us." Kirk smiled. "He seemed all right, but since it's Spock..."

McCoy snorted. "He'll act like he's perfectly fine until something goes extremely wrong. Has he relaxed any?"

"Some. But at the moment, he's still so uncomfortable that it's hard to tell." Kirk shrugged. "There's not much we can do about that. Even among humans, we all have things we don't want to show. And Spock has always been a very private individual."

"No joke." McCoy sighed. "I've been workin' on solutions, but I gotta confess, I'm a little stumped on this one."

Kirk nodded. "Any help from the Chancellor's medical adviser?"

McCoy grimaced. "He tried his best, but the flat truth is, they don't have anybody like Spock down there. In fact, from what I can figure out from our conversation, that's exactly the problem. Their culture promotes a connection to each other and to the world around them, but they don't have any high level telepaths. Which is why they have that little concoction of theirs. If I understood him correctly, it increases receptiveness to resonances in energy fields, like the general bio-electric fields that every living thing emits. The kinds of things our ships scanners look for, the impulses and emanations that all living things give off...that's what they pick up. Or, at least that's what I think he said, anyway. It's more of a philosophy than a science with these folks."

Kirk sighed. "Whatever it is, it tore Spock's mind apart. Have they ever had any cases like this?"

"Not like this. Best he could tell me was that there were folks who expressed 'discomfort with openness'. Which to them is like sayin' you don't like alcohol would be to us. He said he'd try to find me someone who'd experienced problems in the past, see if he could get them to talk to me."

Kirk nodded. "It's something. Any progress on a homemade solution?"

McCoy winced. "Not much. You know how Spock is about losin' control. He's damn hard to pin down when it happens, and worse than you about coming in for a physical." Kirk gave a wry smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I haven't got enough data, really, on what changes in that thick Vulcan skull of his when he does go off, so it's a lotta guesswork. Best I can do at the moment would be a neural dampener and maybe a mix of those drugs we use when the crew gets space fever. Or a mild sedative. But a lot of those combinations will make him sick, and all of them, especially the neural dampeners, will slow his ability to recover."

Kirk frowned. "Because they'll dampen all of his abilities and sensitivities, not just the ones giving him problems?"

"Pretty much." McCoy stabbed at a bite of his food. "The Vulcan mind is a lot more interlocked and connected than yours or mine, Captain. I could dose him so he doesn't feel a thing beyond the four walls of his cabin. But if he even stayed conscious, I'm not sure he'd be able to add one plus one and give you the correct answer. And god knows what it would do to his emotional state, bein' like that."

"Nothing good, I'm sure." Kirk took a swallow of coffee. "Well, keep on it, when you can. And prepare at least one of those compounds for emergencies. In the meantime, we'll watch over him, take care of him as best we can, and hope that the situation sorts itself out."

"That's about the size of it." McCoy took a swallow of his own water. "I know Uhura's takin' over from Scotty come dinner time, which should be soon. Who's got Spock for the night?"

"I do." Kirk ate the last bite of his meal, and set his utensils on the tray. "I'm closest to him in terms of sleeping space."

"And the one he's most likely to tolerate in his space, if it comes to that." McCoy had to agree with the Captain. "I'm probably gonna work a few more hours, then crash myself, but you call me if you have any problems. And if you really think you're too tired to handle it, call me anyway, and I'll take over." he cracked a brief grin. "Spock's almost used to me hoverin' over his bed anyway when he's sick."

Kirk rose from his seat. "Agreed. I'll let you know if anything goes wrong." They both took their trays to the recycling unit, then parted ways at the Mess Hall door.

McCoy went back to his office, and found a message from Uhura, that she'd switched with Scotty. He sent her back a reply to let her know he'd gotten the message, then went back to looking over the compounds he'd isolated that might partially shield Spock from the rest of the crew.

Of the half-dozen compounds he'd listed, two of them were strong enough that he worried about the dosage. He marked those to be used for emergencies only, if Spock was on the verge of having a stroke or a heart attack, or if his telepathy incited an uncontrollable incident among the crew. The other four were milder. They wouldn't cloud Spock's mind too much. Each one had a different area of the brain and chemical balance it affected primarily. One was a straight sedative, one the least powerful neural dampener he had, the other two combinations of similar drugs. He filled two hypos each of the four less powerful medications, one each of the two emergency cocktails, then loaded them all into an emergency kit with his tricorder. That done, he took the pouch with him and retired to his room for a bit of well earned shut-eye.

He was woken out of his sleep some three hours later, just past ship's midnight, by the chiming of the intercom. He scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stumbled to the speaker. "McCoy here."

"Kirk here. I'm sorry to wake you, but I need you to meet me at Spock's quarters."

That cleared his head faster than a pot of coffee would have done. "I'm on my way." he yanked a uniform shirt over his head and a pair of deck shoes onto his feet (he'd learned long before he started in Starfleet that a doctor serving on emergency call slept in something he could make presentable fast), grabbed the bag full of hypos, and was out the door in two minutes flat.

He found Kirk outside the door, waiting for him. "What's up?"

"I was asleep. Spock insisted I rest in my quarters, and since they're right next door, I thought it would be fine. He agreed to leave the intercom open, in case something happened to him."

"And he called you?"

"No. he didn't. But...I was having a very strange dream, and it worried me." Kirk caught his eye. "Vulcan...but I was looking at myself."

It took him a second to catch Kirk's meaning. "You mean..." Kirk nodded, and he winced. "If you're right, and he's projectin' that...you'd better get that door open." Kirk nodded and keyed the override code. Both of them stepped through, then darted into Spock's sleeping alcove.

Spock lay in his bed wrapped in one his preferred off duty robes, eyes closed. He almost looked relaxed, but his hands were clenched slightly in the cover, and as they watched, his head jerked, ever so slightly, then twitched again.

Kirk didn't hesitate. He stepped forward and laid a hand on Spock's shoulder. "Spock!"

Spock came out of sleep with a gasp and a lunge, partially aborted by the sheets and so fast that his hand clipped Kirk's arm, even as the captain tried to move out of the way. Kirk staggered back and caught himself on the wall. "Spock..."

Spock froze, then blinked, then gathered himself. "Captain. Doctor." he blinked again. "May I ask..."

"I heard a disturbance." Kirk straightened. "I wasn't sure I should wake you, but...it looked like you were having a nightmare, and I thought we'd be better safe than sorry."

Spock blinked again, then his face settled into it's normal composure. "Captain...Vulcans do not dream."

McCoy snorted. "You mean, Vulcans who are in full control and regulating their minds on all levels don't dream. But right now you're not at full capacity. And you're also half human, and humans, especially under stress, do dream. And have nightmares."

Spock winced. McCoy sighed. "Sorry Spock. I was just...worried, I guess."

Spock nodded. "Understandable."

Kirk hesitated, then spoke again, his voice gentle. "Spock...do you remember what you were dreaming about?" The Vulcan cocked an eyebrow at him, and Kirk smiled. "Thinking about then, when you went to sleep."

Spock's eyes took on a faraway look. Both men saw it, the instant realization hit him. The Vulcan paled, his expression going mask-like as his whole posture stiffened. "I...that was not a dream..."

"I know." Kirk leaned back against the wall. "I got a little bit of it. You were remembering our visit to Vulcan."

Spock flinched. "You saw the memory?"

Kirk nodded. "I did." Distress flared in Spock's eyes, and Kirk reached out, stopped, then moved forward. "If it helps, I don't think anyone else did. It's probably just because we're so compatible, and because it's a memory we both share."

"That'd be my guess. A dream like that, with no context...I'd hear about it from the crew, if that sort of thing was widespread." McCoy kept his tone low, soothing

Spock nodded, and relaxed just a little. "Likely. I do not know why, however, my subconscious mind should choose to resurrect that particular memory at this time." He still looked a little paler than McCoy liked.

"Probably because it's the last time your mental faculties were compromised. Certainly the last time they were compromised this badly." Kirk gave him a half smile, then settled gingerly on the side of the bed. Spock shifted to make room for him, and McCoy tried not to smile at the picture they made, both in sleep-wear, Kirk perched on the edge of the narrow bed. "And...we've never really talked about it. At first, we had things to do, the mission at Altair to take care of. Then after that...well, I was under the impression from what you said before that Vulcans tend to avoid discussing these sorts of things. I thought it best to respect that."

"A fact I greatly appreciate." Spock swallowed. "Nevertheless...that you should see my thoughts so easily..." He shuddered. "I cannot let this continue. We would be most fortunate, if tonight's disturbance was only confined here. There is no assurance it will remain that way. And my controls...are far from restored."

Kirk nodded. "We've thought of that." he glanced back, then jerked his head for McCoy to join them.

McCoy stepped forward to the opposite side of Spock's bed and held up a hypo. "I can give you something to dampen the neural impulses, in combination with a sedative to knock you out. You probably won't dream, and I doubt you'll project anything." Spock nodded.

McCoy steeled himself. "I don't want to be continually dosing you, Spock. There's nothing I can give you to inhibit your senses that won't also inhibit your recovery."

"Understood. And not...unexpected." Spock's expression was thoughtful. "By day, I can manage myself and, if I understand your intentions correctly, you and the others will be available to assist me."

Kirk cracked another small smile. "We've agreed on that, yes."

"Then it is only the nights where I and the rest of the crew shall be at risk." Spock folded his hands over one knee. "Doctor, would it be possible, and safe, for me to receive the medication at night only?"

"Should be. But I warn you, you aren't gonna feel the best when you wake up. Best I could come up with will probably make you a bit dizzy and sick to your stomach when you come to. And it's risky, mixin' anything else in."

"Understood. I shall survive, and manage as best I can." He glanced at the clock on his wall. "All of us will need to wake for our shifts soon. Doctor...the shot, if you please."

"Sure thing. Just one condition." Spock met his eyes. "I want to stay and monitor the effects for tonight. This is all a bit of a tricky business, and I want to make sure there aren't any negative side effects I didn't calculate. And to be honest, I'd rather prefer to make sure it works first hand."

Spock nodded. "Acceptable, and laudable. Though I should point out that you will hardly be comfortable in my quarters."

It was true. But he and Kirk were perspiring. McCoy shrugged it off. "Well, you'd be hypothermic in mine, and we'd have the same problem in Sick Bay." He ducked out of the room and found the chest Jim had mentioned. There were two cool packs inside. "It looks like I've got the supplies to manage."

"As you wish." Kirk rose from his seat and motioned for Spock to lie down. The Vulcan leaned back onto his elbows. "Captain..."

"I'll see you in the morning, before I go on shift." Kirk paused, looking briefly uncomfortable. "Spock...we probably need to talk about what happened. For both our sakes. But...if you really can't, I won't press you."

Spock's mouth tightened. He looked suddenly, oddly vulnerable, lying in his bed. "I...concur as to the possible necessity Captain. However...I should prefer some time to consider the matter further, if I may."

"All right." Kirk smiled and gave his First Officer a gentle pat on the shoulder. "All right, Spock." He straightened. "I'll see you in the morning. Well...later in the morning." Spock nodded. Kirk flashed the Vulcan one last grin, then turned and left the cabin.

McCoy withdrew the hypo he wanted from his bag, adjusted the dosage settings, then wrapped a cool pack around his neck where it would do him the most good. "All right Spock. Lie down and get comfy."

One eyebrow rose, but the Vulcan complied, laying flat on his back, hands folded loosely over his abdomen. "I am ready, Doctor."

McCoy pressed the hypo against the lean shoulder, and it hissed out the designated amount. "I'm havin' to guess the dosage here, so I don't know how long it'll last. I tried to set it to where it'd wear off in time for normal shift, but I don't want you tryin' to fight it and wake up if it lasts longer, all right?"

"As you wish. Since I have no duties, and no particular interest in facing the side effects you describe as the most likely results, then I see no issue with obeying your orders." McCoy could see Spock's muscles relax as the drugs took hold. Then the Vulcan's eyelids fluttered shut.

McCoy watched him for a moment, then checked his pulse and respiration. His tricorder confirmed that Spock was asleep, what would have qualified for a human as a deep sleep. He huffed quietly. "Sweet dreams, Mr. Spock." No doubt the Vulcan would have been scandalized to hear him say it, and he'd have been mortified if Spock had heard him say it, but he couldn't resist the quip anyway.

Spock always kept spare blankets in his quarters, as he frequently lowered the temperatures to suit human visitors. It was far too warm for McCoy to consider using them for the normal purpose, but three of them spread in a jumbled heap in the most open area of Spock's outer rooms made a comfortable enough bed. He'd certainly slept in worse, and he had to admit that too warm was far better than too cold. He set his medical tricorder to inform him of any serious variances in Spock's physical state, then relaxed back and closed his eyes, and allowed himself to drift into thought, and from there, eventually, into a light doze.

_**Author's Note: **So, what do you think? _


End file.
